


Shattered

by deciding



Series: Patterns and How They Change the Visible World [2]
Category: Queen of the South (TV)
Genre: 3x05, Angst, Extended Scene, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Gen, Missing Scene, Post-3x05, Tension, though the amount of fluff is...debatable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:09:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27591167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deciding/pseuds/deciding
Summary: It took James a few heartbeats to turn his head toward Teresa, to surrender to the light. In the split second before their lips met for the very first time, he looked her in the eye and she saw the part of James that washers. She saw the warmth he only looked at her with.
Relationships: Teresa Mendoza & James Valdez, Teresa Mendoza/James Valdez
Series: Patterns and How They Change the Visible World [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2016934
Comments: 12
Kudos: 38





	Shattered

**Author's Note:**

> This is a follow-up of sorts to _[Steady](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27326740)_. It will still make sense if you don’t read that one, though this does call back and make reference to that story a few times.

The first time Teresa kissed James, awake and not dreaming, he was spiraling, sinking in on himself and nearly past the point of no return into the endless darkness he lived in. It wasn’t what he expected, for her to make a move on him and save him from himself.

But it changed everything.

In their business, all days were long days and the only easy day was yesterday. The day they’d had was particularly taxing; a reminder of what was at stake, what they were willing to do for it, and whose lives were on the line.

For Teresa and James, though unintended, it was a reminder of what they were willing to sacrifice for each other.

There was something James had been trying to protect Teresa from, something they had yet to discuss, when he walked into the winery. She knew it because after he spoke briefly with Devon, James had a gentle look in his eyes when he broke the news that it was all good and Devon had been willing to leave without anything further from her. But that lasted only for a moment, until Teresa disagreed with the terms of James leaving with Devon. She had been out of earshot from hearing what they’d discussed, but Teresa knew James had used himself as his own bargaining chip, to get Devon to leave, to leave her business alone. It wouldn’t have been so easy otherwise, not after Devon’s demand to give up El Santo and the waterboarding of Kelly Anne.

 _Last year this man showed loyalty to Camila and nearly got you killed. You’re willing to sacrifice everything—including your life—for this man?_ Devon had asked Teresa with disbelief.

James had looked at her questioningly, too. He’d given her the out, an end to Devon’s hold on the night, and he didn’t see a better offer coming. Besides, Devon had a point. Teresa herself had made it clear she was still deciding if she could allow herself to trust James completely.

But Teresa hadn’t given any weight to Devon’s words because Teresa didn’t like to be threatened. She wasn’t a money counter or a narco’s girlfriend or a drug mule any longer. These days those who hunted her called her _La Princesa_ , 10-million-dollar bounty on her head and all. She was in charge and she didn’t like people like Devon trying to impede on _her_ people.

So to answer Devon’s question, steadily and without hesitation, she’d said _yes_. She stared Devon down when she did it, so he knew she wasn’t unnerved. Truthfully, she wished she could have been looking into James’ eyes when she said it. They were good at communicating that way, and his eyes always told her what she needed to know, helped her anticipate what her next move should be. Instead, her refusal to concede to Devon became the beginning of James’ unraveling.

Teresa knew James had been working with Devon in the months before he showed up in Malta. James had said when things went wrong with Devon’s business, because of a man with a family—an outlier—it made him want to do things a different way. Teresa’s way.

On the spot, with a gun pointed to his head, James had to delve into the details and reveal to Teresa what he’d been hiding. As it turned out, it wasn’t that James spared the life of the man Devon sent him to kill. It was that he got the job done all too well – the man, his wife, and their little girl, too. The girl had been standing on the front steps of the house, trying to get in, after James had already turned on the stove and lit the flare. James had watched her get hit by the blast and eaten up by the flames when the house exploded.

Devon kept talking after James told the story, thinking Teresa was willing to burn James for the truth of what he’d done. She told Devon to take James. Teresa’s eyes locked with James’, and she did her best to tell him without words they would figure their way out of the impossible situation like all the other ones before, but he’d looked at her like he was seeing the house go up in flames again.

It was the first time Teresa worried they’d lost their touch (six month was a long time not to work together), that she’d been right after all to tell him back in Malta she didn’t know him, just how he fought and how well he handled a gun. At the time he’d said _maybe that’s all there is_. She hadn’t known then what he’d been hiding. She hadn’t known the burden he was harboring everywhere he went and every time he closed his eyes.

Whether Teresa knew James or could trust him after a long absence remained to be seen. But one thing she knew for sure, from all the time she’d spent around James before, was that he wasn’t ruthless. Some narcos enjoyed taking lives, took pleasure in it, but James didn’t. Sure, there were certainly those for whom there was no love lost once eliminated—those who got in the way of business (most of James’ feelings of distaste for people were business-related)—but he preferred there not be so many casualties, especially bystanders. He did it for the job, for the wagon he’d hitched himself to, but never for pleasure. Teresa knew James buried his humanity so far deep so no one else would find it—so even he could barely recognize it anymore—but he still had it, so he knew the weight of taking a life. A little girl, an innocent, that would have been so much for James, would have burned him up inside.

Hearing the recount from James of what happened in Texas told Teresa what she needed to do. That was what she’d been focused on and was thinking about, trying to filter out Devon’s spiel as he went on. She wasn’t really listening to Devon; she wouldn’t have given James up to Devon no matter what he said. But she’d told James to get Ivan to work his magic online before she walked into the winery—and she’d sent them a signal, looking up to one of the surveillance cameras—so what she needed was time to stall, to prevent more bloodshed after they’d just set up shop in Phoenix and were on shaky ground with La Comisión.

When Vee from Devon’s team told him about a disturbance outside—probably Pote—Teresa told James she wouldn’t let Devon take him, and they could use the guns stashed in the cabinet behind her. He looked surprised, again, because she intended to double cross Devon and because her last resort plan involved a full-on shootout, them versus Devon’s well-equipped team.

 _There’s too many of them. We won’t make it_ , James told Teresa, resigned to the fate of being taken.

But Teresa, strong-willed as she was, would go out in a blaze of glory if necessary. If James was ready to put everything on the line, then so was she. _Then we don’t make it_ was all she said.

The plan was pretty hasty and underdeveloped for James’ taste but he didn’t have much choice other than to go with it once Teresa ran for the cabinet and he caught the gun she threw him in mid-air, the two of them raising their weapons at Devon and his team in sync.

Instead of bullets flying, they got a hail Mary. Ivan used the online presence of Devon’s sister to figure out the two of them had a mother, alive and well. Lil’ T found her singing gospel hymns in a church. Devon lost the upper hand right there, lost his bargaining chip, and packed up his team once it was the life of _his_ beloved on the line. Devon left with the promise of chaos in his eyes, like they’d bargained with the devil to be okay for the day, but would still have business to settle down the road.

The Devon problem was solved for the time being, but it didn’t put the million shattered pieces of James back together.

He tried to leave.

Back at the house, he went up to the study where Teresa was looking over the orders they had to fill for the next week. James made a point of holding up the keys to his own house, saying it was hers now.

Like she’d done when speaking to Devon, Teresa’s response was a staunch _no_.

James went on to tell Teresa she put everything in jeopardy for him—her business and her life—and reminded her he’d lied right to her face. He didn’t have to say it for Teresa to know he thought he was in the wrong, was unforgivable for what happened in Texas and for lying about it, especially after they’d conversed about trust so much.

Teresa had never seen James like that before, so self-loathing and barely hanging on by a thread. She told him she knew why he lied to her.

Letting James in after the way they’d parted ways six months back wasn’t easy and it wasn’t without complications. The unspoken tension between them from before was only renewed, and bigger than before. Teresa knew the same energy was back and bigger even in Malta, when hitmen were after her and they were arguing about betrayal and protection and trust. James had told her then, _Since the first day we met, I’ve been trying to keep you alive, and whether you want to believe it or not, I’m still trying to, but you have to trust me_.

Many times James and Teresa had gotten into situations where they relied on one another to make it through. She remembered shooting the guy from Florida, because they had a job to do for Camila, and he’d seen James’ face in the ambush on the highway. She remembered going back for James after their rendezvous with the feds in the arena parking structure in downtown Dallas and following tire tracks to the militia camp in the desert. She also remembered what James had done for her—he hadn’t been wrong in Malta when he said he’d tried to keep her alive, so many times. She also recalled the times James had saved her in a different way, let her keep her conscience, lying for her when the maid disappeared, and taking care of El Contador, bringing the bloody bag of money back to Camila’s after it was done.

Whether or not he’d earned her trust since being back, Teresa couldn’t deny James meant something to her. She loved him—that was something she’d figured out on the boat ride after Bolivia, when she woke up in El Santo’s sanctuary after her hallucination of kissing James, feeling safe with him, and him losing blood in her arms. They’d gone through even more after Bolivia, in Chicago, at the train depot, with the Vargas family in Mexico, in Malta, and earlier in the evening at the winery. James always protected her, always saved her, even when it danced the line of lying and betrayal, because he believed he was doing it for her. The last time they’d spoken before Malta, on the train car, he’d said _you can’t save me, Teresa, you can’t save any of us_. But after learning what happened with Devon, in the time in between, she couldn’t accept that kind of defeat anymore. Now, Teresa _needed_ to save James. For his soul, not for business.

“Her name was Suzie. She couldn’t have been more than, like, six years old.” Teresa saw the torture James had been putting himself through, in his body language and in his face, when he sat down. “I can’t stop thinking about her.”

“You didn’t mean for that to happen.” Teresa moved to sit next to James, wanting to provide him with absolution. “You once told me there’s no good or bad in this business. Right?”

He wouldn’t look at her and his voice was pained and hollow. “I’m not sure I believe that anymore.”

“Because of that little girl?”

“Her…and you.” James nodded and looked at Teresa for only a moment, giving up his vulnerability.

Early on, when they’d first started working together, James had used a metaphor about caves and learning to live in the dark, all survival instinct. And because she knew James wasn’t as closed off as he appeared to be on the surface, because the good in him was lurking beneath, Teresa had long acknowledged James’ decision to live his life in the dark was because too much light was dangerous for someone like him. So Teresa felt partly responsible. So then it was on her. She was the one who’d kept pulling him out of the cave, who let too much light in. And he was shattered because of it.

“Listen, whatever you’ve done, you don’t need to hide from me.” Teresa reached out to touch James’ hand. His fists were clenched, cold and clammy, and he pinched at his skin by pressing his thumb against the base of his index finger. “We’re in this together.”

For a second Teresa thought she’d gotten through to James, using his own words on him. He looked like he was on the verge of tears, and Teresa would have welcomed that, to hold him and share his sorrow. But there was a flash of darkness in his eyes and he retreated back into the depths of himself that were an endless sea of black water, like Suzie and his demons and his guilt were crying _please don’t forget about me_.

“I don’t deserve that,” he said instead, like he’d already spent too much time looking in the mirror lately and shot out the glass when he couldn’t stand what he saw, deemed himself unworthy of any absolution.

James’ vulnerability and self-loathing made Teresa’s heart clench. To see him broken down and defeated broke her up inside a little bit, too. After learning about what he’d done, and even with the uncertainty between them, Teresa didn’t love James any less.

They’d always been in it together, ever since he’d looked at her with his emotions in his eyes, telling her he wouldn’t have another dead drug mule on his watch. Once she’d told him _that’s not who I am, that’s not who I want to become_ in anger, because they’d watched a man die without doing anything about it and he’d said _too late_. He hadn’t been wrong then either. They’d done a lot for survival, for business, for each other. Teresa thought James to be inherently good while having to do bad things. She wasn’t much different, not anymore. As much as she tried to stay a better path than those in the business who came before her, she, too, felt like she was elbows deep in blood sometimes. So if James didn’t deserve to be freed from the guilt and shame he’d racked himself with, where did that leave her? Where did that leave anyone, really?

Teresa was responsible for letting too much light leak into James’ cave. Now, after the day they’d had, after James’ life had been put on the line—with Devon, with her, and with himself—Teresa knew she couldn’t leave it at that and only rescue James halfway. She had to flood him with the light.

“Everyone deserves that,” she told him.

She moved closer to James, closer than they’d been in a while, and held his face while she pressed her lips to his cheek. It was the first sign of tension release from him, the lines in his face relaxing, his eyes closing and head bowing as she did it.

It took James a few heartbeats to turn his head toward Teresa, to surrender to the light. In the split second before their lips met for the very first time, he looked her in the eye and she saw the part of James that was _hers_. She saw the warmth he only looked at her with.

It started off sweet and tentative. One long, slow kiss. Then the tips of their noses touched, and then their foreheads. Teresa’s eyes fluttered open to check on James but his eyes were closed the whole time, a short intake of breath before they were all over each other.

Kissing James was a much more intense experience than it had been in her hallucination. That had been comfortable and comforting. Kissing James in reality, though tender, was hypnotizing and desperate. James kissed Teresa like he was going to lose her, like she would slip through his fingers and float out into the ether if their lips weren’t touching for more than a second and if he wasn’t holding her.

 _I don’t want to lose you_ , he’d told her months ago, on George’s boat after she’d secured the connection with El Santo. It was the one and only time they’d ever gotten close to acknowledging how they felt about each other. Every single feeling they’d ever had for one another remained unresolved, even when they crossed another boundary and blurred another line as they kissed.

Teresa had been the one to initiate, to put her hands on James’ face and work her way into his lap. But it wasn’t long before James took control, so Teresa was rested on her back and his hand was on her ass, pulling her leg that was already wrapped around his hip even closer. Then their hands were all over each other as they kissed, on cheeks and in hair, over leather and denim. Very quickly, it became clear they were wearing too many clothes.

Teresa managed to wrangle her way back into James’ lap, laying hot open-mouthed kisses on his lips, the scratch of his beard against her face making her want him so much closer. She ran her fingers over his chest and pushed against the collar of his jacket, signaling for him to take it off. The leather creaked every time he repositioned his hands on her body. He got the message and it was like he was bargaining, willing to let go of her only long enough to rid himself of the noisy garment but not without slipping his tongue in her mouth, dragging the tip along the inside of her bottom lip. The action caused Teresa to moan and grind down against James.

With the leather out of the way, Teresa could feel the muscles in James’ back and how warm his skin was when his fingers grazed over her hip just under the edge of her shirt. She placed small kisses down his neck and right over his tattoo there, feeling him sigh and tighten his grip on her. When Teresa pulled back ever so slightly, she was met by James’ eyes, the lamp above them casting a ring of light around his pupils.

She took hold of his jaw, cradling his face, before she spoke. “Hey.”

“ _Teresa_ ,” his voice was a harsh whisper—begging and pleading and promising.

Teresa nodded, in acknowledgement and agreement, because they were in this together, like always. Like a moth drawn to a flame, she wanted—needed—James every bit as much as he did her.

“Come on,” she replied, though he kept her flush to him when she made a move to stand up.

She kissed James once, quickly, and clarified her intent. “My room is closest.”

He didn’t fight it when she rose then, and closed his hand around hers when she offered it out to him.

“Lead the way,” James said simply.

It was a fast dash from the study to Teresa’s room, fingers intertwined and hearts beating quickly. The study had too many floor-to-ceiling windows and didn’t have a door, so anyone could have seen what they were doing. Kelly Anne and Pote were still in the kitchen and Charger and Tonto usually patrolled outside at night; they’d be on especially high alert after what happened earlier in the night.

As soon as the door was closed behind them and the light switched on, Teresa and James were in each other’s arms again. They kissed each other roughly, with purpose. Teresa’s shirt was first to go. She unbuttoned it and let it fall to the ground once the sleeves were off. James traced a line down her spine with his thumb, making her shiver. Teresa took off James’ shirt next, making sure to grab his undershirt with it, in one swift motion, dropping it to the floor to become a pile with her shirt. She moved her fingers over his biceps and shoulders, paying extra attention to the scars left by bullet holes and broken glass. She kissed the scar tissue he’d acquired in Bolivia and he exhaled, eyes closed and his hand strong on her back.

Teresa had noted James’ frame was bigger back when he showed up in Malta, and she was better able to appreciate it with his shirt off. After learning of his work with Devon, she wondered if it was because of that—to more easily do the things he’d had to do—or if he’d gotten bigger and stronger in reaction to what he’d done, physical challenge for relief from the actions that made him want to carve out his own lungs.

James titled Teresa’s chin upward to kiss her, breaking her out of her thoughts. With his other hand rested on her abs, he pushed back slightly, Teresa walking backwards until she was standing with her back to the door. Her fingers were splayed out on his neck. James’ hands traveled down to Teresa’s hips and further, to the backs of her thighs just below her ass. He lifted her up in place so she was pinned up against the door, leaving no space between their bodies.

When Teresa gasped, James broke from her kiss and spoke in a hushed tone. “Careful,” his breath was hot against the shell of her ear, “they’ll hear us.”

Somehow the possibility of being found out added to the thrill of it, knowing they were escalating towards something more pleasure than business, but anyone in the house could catch them in their business. There were a multitude of things Pote or Kelly Anne might knock on the door for or wonder about the ruckus inside if they were standing outside the door.

Teresa moved her hands over the planes of James’ back and he took it as a sign of the time to move to the bed. He set her down on her back, long hair fanning around her head like a halo. Standing at the foot of the bed, James went to follow suit and hover over her but Teresa rose just enough to rest on her elbows and shook her head.

She extended her leg out and tapped the button of James’ jeans with her big toe. “Off.”

With a low chuckle, he complied and did as directed, then helped Teresa shed her own pants after she unbuttoned them and undid the zipper. James’ gaze was fiery when he moved onto the bed, and even more so when Teresa reached behind her and unclasped her bra, taking it off and leaving it to the wayside. She stroked at James’ cheek with the back of her hand and he turned her hand to kiss the inside of her wrist before he settled over her, between her legs.

They kissed slowly and James’ calloused fingers drew a path up her ribcage and his thumb brushed over her nipple, giving rise to goosebumps over the rest of her body. They stayed like that for a while, tongues colliding and hands everywhere, Teresa grinding up against James’ growing arousal that she could feel through the little fabric they had left between them.

Before they went for too long without air, James pulled back, moving toward the side of the bed. Teresa adjusted her legs around him so he couldn’t get far. He only meant to get into the bottom drawer of the bedside table. Teresa had the master bedroom but it was James’ house so it had once been his room. Being the organized person that he was, James knew where he left things and where to find them even when some time had passed.

It was an open box of condoms James was after and it was the only thing in the drawer. The box felt a little light so he dumped the contents onto the bed, two foil packets falling out. He picked them up and turned them over, reading the labels.

Teresa cleared her throat and raised her eyebrows in wonder. “Something you need help with, James?”

She’d never seen anyone look so closely at a condom before and last she remembered the instructions weren’t written on the back.

“I’m checking the expiry date,” James said evenly. “Before we came here last week, I hadn’t been back to Arizona in a while.”

“ _Oh_.” Teresa laughed. “Okay.”

“That’s funny?”

“No,” Teresa assured. “It’s very…very you. I didn’t know you were this prepared about _everything_ in your life, down to the last condom. I like it though.”

Teresa was at the helm of a new drug cartel. Their line of work was dangerous, always, no place for a kid. And certainly, the last thing two people with unresolved feelings for each other needed was to risk bringing a baby into the mix. The only one in their crew who could possibly think having a baby around was a good idea was George, and only because he’d no doubt like to call someone Baby Chapo in a more literal, unironic sense.

James’ due diligence was appreciated by Teresa. His heightened sense of awareness had saved them both on more than one occasion. Hell, it had helped him find Teresa halfway across the world in Malta and figure out which window to break through at the exact second before the mercenary shot her, even after she’d locked him up in the trunk of a car with his hands zip tied.

So Teresa liked that James was still the same, still himself in bed. She liked that there were stumbling blocks—awkward yet practical ones—from their first kiss to laying together. It reminded her to take in the moment, because it wasn’t dreamlike but it was _real_ , and James always anchored her to reality, kept her steady without needing to filter through rose-colored glasses.

Teresa spoke again. “So are we good?”

James moved the condoms to the corner of the bed with a nod. “We’re good.”

Teresa brought her hands up to his face, thumbs on his jaw and fingers on the back of his neck, and pulled him down to meet her kiss. The kisses were more demanding now, on both their parts, and James slid his hand up her thigh, angling her leg out.

When he skimmed over her underwear, Teresa raised her pelvis, bringing his hand closer to where she wanted it to be.

James hooked his thumb into the waistband of the lace and asked between kisses, “Off?”

Teresa groaned, catching James’ lip between her teeth. “Off.”

She whimpered at the gentle pressure of his thumb on her clit once he’d ridded her of her underwear.

He pulled back to look at her as he made broader strokes and rubbed up and down her slit. “Is this okay?”

Her eyes were squeezed shut, head thrown back, hands fisting the sheets. Teresa hummed her approval, almost dazed when she answered, “Keep going.”

James released the pressure from his thumb, moving his hand and slipping a finger inside her, noting how wet she was. Teresa gasped, her heels dragging up the bed until her feet were firmly planted on the mattress, perfectly manicured toenails curling.

“James,” she moaned his name when he added another finger. “ _Yes_.”

Teresa tugged at the first thing she could hold onto, his elbow, hoping to draw him in closer. She wanted to be holding him when he took her over the edge, wanted him to know that as much pleasure as he was giving her, the night was still about him and what he needed from her. Teresa wanted James to know she was as focused on him as he was on her, thinking of nothing and no one else.

She couldn’t stop writhing under his touch, riding the push and pull of his fingers inside her core. James gave in some and moved to hover over her, dragging his tongue between her breasts and kissing her temple. But he moved his free hand over her stomach, stilling her movement and holding her in place to take his ministrations when she didn’t protest.

Teresa lost her concept of time and space as James brought her closer to the edge. She could feel the tension in her body uncoiling and she gritted her teeth, fighting against the small tremors of her muscles starting to spasm.

“Go on, Teresa,” James murmured in her ear. “I’ve got you.”

His earnest encouragement was all she needed to let go. A cry fell from her throat when James brought his thumb back down on her, rubbing small circles against her clit as he fucked her with his fingers. Teresa thought it was all too soon, but she came, shaking as she clung to James and let the waves of her orgasm crash over her. He moved the hand that had been keeping her in place up to the back of her neck, cradling her head while she writhed and clamped down on him.

She could have guessed James would be so good with his hands. Anyone who knew how to use a gun as well as he did _had_ to be good with their hands. What Teresa hadn’t expected was how strong her reaction to him would be. She thought she’d come embarrassingly fast, from zero to jumping off the cliff in mere minutes. But James didn’t seem fazed when Teresa opened her eyes. He looked at her with admiration, touching his forehead to hers and pressing a kiss full of longing against her mouth. He treated her like a goddess—somehow the perfect combination of sexy and holy at the same time.

She reached out to the corner of the bed and felt around until she felt the foil James had put there earlier. She grabbed the packets and threw them at James. He had a tiny smile playing on his lips, in awe of her, but he caught them in mid-air. They weren’t done. Not yet.

Teresa watched as James separated the two packets at the perforated edges, dropping one on the bed and getting the other open by holding one corner and pulling on the other corner with his teeth. He rid himself of his boxer briefs quickly and Teresa bit her lip, taking in the sight of him, as he rolled the condom down his length.

It wasn’t long before James was hovering over her again, gathering her slick heat and spreading it around the condom. She meant to help him do it, meant to stroke him more than a few times, but her body felt heavy and weighed down in her post-orgasmic state. James’ touch was a catalyst though, and had the tension in her body coiling up in anticipation immediately.

James settled over Teresa at last, hands combing up the side of her body, leaving her shivering in the wake. He ran his thumb down her jawline from her chin towards her ear, then sunk his fingers into her hair, rubbing a few curly locks between his thumb and forefinger. He seemed confident not long before, taking Teresa over the edge, but down to nothing else in between them except for boundaries crossed, he seemed anxious.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked tentatively.

Teresa chuckled and smirked. “A little late to be asking that now, don’t you think?”

“I wouldn’t ask you to do anything you don’t want to.” James disagreed and shook his head. He let go of the strands of hair he had in his fingers to cradle Teresa’s head again. “You’re safe.”

The smile dropped from Teresa’s face as her heart skipped a beat at James’ last words. _You’re safe, you’re safe._ He’d said those words in one of her hallucinations in Bolivia before he got shot. Impulsively, she reached out and held his neck but no blood seeped over her fingers. She exhaled in relief and traced over his clavicles. She believed him, too, like she had then, that she was safe with him.

“Hey, hey,” James said gently, “Teresa, are you all right?”

“I’m good.” Teresa ran her fingers through James’ hair at the nape of his neck, then modified her response, “Better than good.”

James tilted her chin upward so she had to look in his eyes. “Where did you go just now?”

“Nowhere. I’m here.” Teresa shook her head. “I was just…breathing.”

She wasn’t sure if James believed her or not, but it was true she’d had time, gotten a few minutes to catch her breath since James had worked her body up.

“Okay.” James had the look in his eyes again, full of earnest honesty and warmth. “Are you sure you want this?”

Teresa regretted that he’d had to ask her twice. It wasn’t as much a want as a need at this point.

“Yes,” Teresa confirmed. “But not like this.”

Teresa pushed at James’ chest and he moved off her, onto his side next to her. It was advantageous for Teresa because it made her next move easier. James’ look of worry turned to heat when Teresa tipped him onto his back against her pillows and straddled him, changing their positions. His hands were on the backs of her thighs immediately as she leaned over him and onto her elbows for support. Her hair fell forward, framing both of their faces when she spoke against his lips, “Like _this_.”

James didn’t need any further motivation or reassurance then. With a hand on the small of her back, James lined himself up with Teresa’s entrance. Teresa lowered herself onto him and they both threw their heads back and groaned. Teresa used James’ chest for leverage to sit up and lean back.

“ _Fuck_ ,” James muttered as he took the sight of Teresa in, watching her move with lust.

There was something about the way James swore, always with intent and passion behind it, that moved something inside of Teresa. It made her feel heat on every pore of her skin, like those expletives were his pheromones. Hearing him swear on her account, because of her, it goaded her on.

She was a vision, James thought, floating in the air and riding him, her hair wild, a slight smirk on her face and her body reacting to _him_. James was so enraptured by her that he let her have her way with him for longer than he’d planned, for as long as he could take.

James took back some control when he drew his hands up her body and cupped at her breasts. Craving his touch, Teresa leaned forward into his palms, leaving less space between them. It allowed James to bring her closer, to lick at the underside of her breasts and take one in his mouth as he kneaded the other. Teresa gasped and grabbed his shoulder, lost the rhythm she’d built, when she felt the slight scrape of James’ teeth against her nipple. He did it again, thrice, and thrust up into Teresa, which brought her down so her stomach was flush with his, nails digging into his biceps.

She was as vulnerable to James then as he was to her whenever their eyes met and she could see into his soul. James took hold of her hips and set a new rhythm. He had a different method than her, thrusts going slower but stronger, reaching a depth inside of her that had her out of control in no time, her body telling her to tap out but begging for more just the same.

James moaned with a break in his breath, almost panting, cursing his pleasure against her pulse point. Teresa was able to focus on the sound of James’ breathing for only a moment before the pressure building inside her was sizzling and ready to boil over.

“James, I—” Teresa couldn’t get the words out, couldn’t think straight, as her back arched, her body chasing down her release.

“What?” James’ hand was tangled in her hair immediately, his gaze, heavy-lidded and electric, snapping to her face. “Please tell me.”

“James,” she repeated, his name a sigh of praise as she struggled to get the right words out. “Don’t hide from me. Don’t hold back.”

Teresa pressed her forehead to his. Her voice completely wrecked, she said, “ _Take me_.”

She couldn’t help the yelp that escaped her, a visceral reaction, when James did exactly as she asked. He sat up on the bed and stroked into her with new intensity, his pace never straying from precise timing, reaching just the right spot over and over again. The snap of his hips made her eyes roll back and she was sure she would have been reeling if James’ hold on her ass wasn’t so firm as he brought her down to meet his thrusts.

Teresa only had the chance to moan and whimper her desire a few times before James added the pressure of his thumb on her clit. He just held it there and she was in a frenzy, clawing at his back and pressing her cheek into his shoulder firmly so she wasn’t shrieking as the waves of pleasure broke. James wasn’t far behind, the spasm of her muscles tightening around him and squeezing at his length becoming too much to bear, with one last thrust before he spilled inside her.

James kept Teresa in his embrace, his arms locked around her, fingers tracing patterns over her spine every now and then as they caught their breath. She liked the way his calloused thumb dragged across her skin with resistance, like it was a part of him that meant to leave its mark on her. She didn’t think she could forget it.

When they looked at each other, Teresa grinned at the lazy smirk on James’ face and placed a chaste kiss to his lips before moving off him, but not parting from his arms. James had been doing a lot more smiling recently. But like the looks he gave her, she was pretty sure that kind of smile was meant only for her, too.

Later, after they’d cleaned themselves up and gotten beneath the sheets, they were in close, Teresa with her head rested on James’ chest, listening to the even tempo of his heartbeat, no longer shattered or erratic.

“Were you really going to leave?” she asked, tracing over the web tattooed on his shoulder.

James shifted when she picked her head up. “Yeah.”

He meant it. Teresa could tell by the look in his eyes.

“Are you glad I convinced you otherwise?”

James flashed the smirk again, the one he saved for Teresa. He sank back against the pillows and settled his hand back into her hair, easing her head back against his chest. “I think I wanted you to.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Story Notes](https://jerepars.tumblr.com/post/634956928296075264/shattered-extended-story-notes) are on tumblr, where I’m [@jerepars](https://jerepars.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Thank you for reading! Feedback is always appreciated. <3


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